


Widowmaker's Foot Pump

by Frocto



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ass Play, F/M, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Foot Fetish, Latex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:53:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21684049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frocto/pseuds/Frocto
Summary: A revised version of an older story. Widowmaker takes a younger man under her perverted tutelage.
Relationships: Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix/Original Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	Widowmaker's Foot Pump

All the guys in Numbani liked to come to the Heritage Museum sooner or later. It wasn’t just because the heroes of the Overwatch were awe-inspiring figures who’d wrestled the whole world back to the side of justice... That was part of it, for certain, but for every little hero-worshipping guy looking up at Winston or Reinhardt with wide, adoring eyes, there were three or four other perverted shits rendering themselves as unthinking tit-zombies, blasting their innocent brains apart with visions of perverse female bodies.

Like they weren’t pounding their fat little cocks hard enough already to their teachers... or the next-door neighbour... or their best friend’s mom... Or the thousands of other things those overhung studs could tug themselves stupid over under the sheets under. There was enough fodder out there to wank even the most adorable pink dicks into veiny, darkened and nasty brute-cocks.

But now they lived in a world with the bitches of the Overwatch, too! So all the guys jacked their dicks furiously to them as well: no matter how glorious and noble the girl’s deeds of valour were, underneath it all they were still juicy female flesh, capable of crawling into bed with a man and warming him with their body heat... and wringing out all his horny jack-off juice while they were there!

Thick curves that wobbled under their skimpy outfits! Bodies so cartoonishly overdeveloped and thick they looked like anime characters! Gigantic, heaving tits so large they looked like they must be implants, yet to a woman those chests, titties everyone wanted to get a piece of, all moved naturally! They bounced their way into male’s minds, and melted them, coaxing the contents of their nuts to come blasting out with all their pent-up male force.

Men pawed at their computer monitors. They bit their pillows to keep from crying out. They developed sick fetishes, hammering out posts on internet message boards about how they wanted Zarya to crush their face with her ass, or begged to curl up in Mei’s lap and be quietly breastfed for hours and hours!

\---

As Widowmaker strutted through the halls of the Numbani Heritage Museum, it seemed like there were only that particular variety of pussy-craving prick around today. Not a single hero-worshipper to be seen, just slutty studs with cranky, drooling cocks that wanted to be let out to play with her mind-numbingly smooth blue flesh.

She sneered at them, hoping to turn them away. She’d come here for Doomfist’s Gauntlet, and that vile bitch Tracer could be on her any moment now... The sooner she had the gauntlet, the sooner she could get home and out of this place that irritated her nose with the stink of semen.

At least they weren’t chastising her. She laughed inwardly at that! Like any of these hopped-up brats would ever have the balls to actually approach her. No, they just stared: they had the biggest eyes when it came to staring up at thick bitches like her. They had big eyes for her big tits!

Someone must have thought it would be funny to dress up their favourite bruised-kneed cock-slobberer in some sort of parody of a professional assassin. She had on all the trappings: high-tech goggles, a high-powered Widow's Kiss rifle... She looked like she was trying so hard to pass herself her off as a classy, high-born bitch who would never have hollowed her cheeks to slurp cum right from the hose... but it was all wasted effort! 

It was so obvious what she was: when Widowmaker strutted, the bossy French bitch swayed her thick hips around like she'd been born in cock-teasing high-heels. That hussy walk, and the drooling purple lips that dragged one’s attention down her from eyes like magnets, told the real story. 

Her miraculous body was cinched into a pink and black latex bodysuit. The colours worked almost like a divider for her flesh: the black leggings and gauntlets were all no-nonsense, armoured protective gear to keep an evil bitch on the move, but when it got to the juicy stuff... That was all glossy, vibrant pink, calling the eye over and inviting it to luxuriate in the curvy goodness of her body. 

That was where any attempt at making Widowmaker's outfit look like anything more than the seedy garments of a sleaze-dream stripper began to fall apart. With her gigantic pink-clad chest and bulging, heavily-curved shelf of her ass, it was impossible to look at Amelie and see anything other than a bitch, female flesh for men to tuck into and gorge themselves on.

She had the lower body of a breeding toy, with a womb itching to receive. It was the worst between her legs: sinister as her black-clad thighs might have looked, the thick-lipped pussy between them only looked slathered in a coat of thin pink paint. 

There wasn't any way a man could spend five minutes in a room with this woman without his semen beginning to rise, nuts beginning to churn out more gooey cum. Every swagger of her doll-like breeding curves demanded even the meekest twink become a brutal breeding bull.

\---

Widowmaker strutted her way up to the glass case containing the Gauntlet, and heaved a long sigh of relief as she hoisted it into her arms. With this, she could depart this place... Once upon a time, it had been a bastion of knowledge, a place to hold the greatest achievements of the Overwatch group... But now it seemed more like a seedy place, one where women like Angela could come cruising for cock.

Widowmaker turned towards the exit... only to find the way blocked. A small, black-haired male was looking up at her with big, bright eyes. He was staring adoringly... and more importantly, he didn’t look like he was ready to move. 

She briefly considered reaching for her rifle, then took a step towards him. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt: “Oh, a fan, mmm?”

He nodded excitedly, springing on the balls of his heels, rising up on his toes. “Yes! You’re my favourite, Widowmaker!”

Widowmaker flushed at that, smiling ear-to-ear. “Of course I am, brat, of course I am.” 

Her face brightened. “Well, what a lovely fellow you are... Such a very nice thing to say.”

Amelie was feeling better about this already. But, she reminded herself, Tracer probably wasn’t far off still... “Well, as much as I’d love to stay and chat, I happen to be in the middle of some important business right now. Au revoir, petit~”

“Yeah!” he continued, seemingly unabated by her words. “Your fat rack is the biggest I’ve ever seen! I wanna suck all the milk out of your cow-tits and then cum all over them!” 

“...”

“And bury my dick in you!”

Widowmaker leaned over forwards. At that moment, she wasn’t mindful of how much chest she was hanging in his face, how much of those perfectly formed “cow-tits” she was teasing him with. “You perverted little shit, just what are you saying...”

She leaned closer. Her smile of a moment ago was still on her face, but rather than the genuine pleasure that had been in her eyes a moment ago, they now sizzled with something else. She leered at him, leaning closer. “Disgusting males like you make me absolutely sick.”

Widowmaker’s tongue rolled across her bimbo-thick lips, cock-pillows vastly greater in size than evolution could ever have intended. “Come with me.”

His smile got just as big as hers.

\---

Her toy landed on the bed with a big, fluffy pomf. “What’re we gonna do on the bed, oneechan~?”

“Shut your mouth. Lay on your back, like a good boy. And be quiet.”

They’d long since moved to Widowmaker’s little hole-in-the-wall apartment. He lay back on her bed, the latex-clad assassin sitting across the room opposite from him. She was chewing her lip: to an outsider, it might look like she was perhaps having a brief crisis of conscience about what she was about to do... but in Widowmaker’s mind, it had never been a question of, “Should I?”

She was a pervert through and through, who ate guys like him for breakfast. The only thing she was thinking about was, “Who should I send the photos to afterwards?”

Now, what to do with him! Minds like his were nice and pliable: especially if you were like her and knew all the ins-and-outs. Would she suffocate him, choking him all the way through his many orgasms? Maybe she’d bully him into being a cute slave for her... Mm, no, such a bold bitch deserved something a bit more playful.

She considered helping him become a daddy for all of a second: after all, how many of this city’s studs had ever been able to make her womb ache so rapidly within just seconds of meeting her? It was while Widowmaker was dawdling over those thoughts that she happened to glance down towards her booted feet, and a sly smile began to spread across her face. Mmph, perfect.

The villainous babe shed her boots slowly, working through the catches and releases. Under the armour, her latex bodysuit left the assassin’s legs completely bare. Her toes were itching for some mischief, and the ache only got worse the longer she stared at him.

As she brought her feet up in front of the poor guy’s face, the smoothness, the smell of her sweat... it all made a heady cocktail his brain couldn’t escape from. He was drawn in, wanting to touch, smell and taste.

Widowmaker rose from her seat and swaggered her way across the room towards the bundle of joy laid out on her bed. He squirmed, looking up at her with bright eyes from amidst the sheets. He bat his eyelashes and touched a finger to her lips, and she almost swooned right there. Young men were so perfect. They had minds ready and receptive to whatever sort of sick fetish you wanted to train into them.

Widowmaker didn’t waste another moment. She clambered up onto the bed, lifting the great, fleshy domes of her behind over his face. She was glad her face was hidden from him... she was smirking, riding out the eye-rolling pleasure of corrupting a brat to the very end. Without giving him time to adjust, she crushed his head with her ass, cushioned French meat easing down over his face until she felt her butt touch down on the bed on either side. Widowmaker looked back at her captive over her shoulder, giggling to herself at how innocent it looked: it was just an ordinary girl sitting her extraordinary behind on her bed. One would never had guessed there was an entire brat’s head in there, crushed between the cheeks of her mammoth ass. She felt every inch of his face with her ass, and didn’t spare him a lick of mercy... Widowmaker rubbed back and forth on him, grinding her asshole on his cheeks and nose. It wasn’t her problem if the day had left her a little sweaty.

“Enjoying yourself back there, perverted brat? Maybe next time you’ll stop and think twice about who you’re propositioning, mmm?”

He moaned into her butt. Rather than fighting her, he reached for it with both hands. Her horny low-hanging fruit cupped her cheeks and gave them pawing squeezes, fingers sinking into the latex wrapped around her lewd, fat butt. Amelie had to stifle groans of pleasure, even while inwardly she grew more and more pleased with him. 

He would be a repeater for sure... By the end of today, this snotty, horny male and his thick cock were going to have Widowmaker’s private cell number saved on his phone. Aggressive studs like him deserved to make booty calls, and have 10/10 bitches like her answer them.

Widowmaker raised both legs in the air, putting even more weight on his face. It was the least he deserved for having such a delightfully hairless cock and heavy balls. She placed a small tub of oil in his hands, and soon had him lubing her feet up until they were glistening and shiny.

“Good boy...”

She kicked her long legs all the way out, thighs trembling in the air. Her feet were dangling over a brat’s crotch, and the sick femme smiled inwardly. 

In bed with studs was where Widowmaker really belonged. She was a fraud, perpetuating a lie that she was a bloodthirsty, professional assassin. Anyone thinking she was anything but a nut-huffing skank was a fool. 

Before anything else, Widowmaker was a pervert, a stud-molesting floozie, and she had a taste for young men through and through.

Widowmaker wriggled her toes teasingly. She dropped the tips to the head of his member, rubbing it through his pants. 

“Let’s get these off...” Widowmaker deftly bared his cock with just a few flicks of her feet, baring the thick, strong-smelling rod she’d been dreaming of. And it wasn’t any smaller for him being on the short side: Widowmaker had netted herself a hung stud. 

“My my... Just how many bitches have you already fed to this thing? It’s so huge...”

Widowmaker started with her toes on his nutsack, rolling the big, heavy balls in circles. She coaxed them to begin making more seed to fire out... “You must make me lots of cum... I’ll know if you’ve jacked it all out over my photos and things, mm?”

He groaned, unable to reply. He was still buried under Widowmaker’s ass, still snorting her musk like cocaine as she played with his cock. He was vile. The assassin knew there was no no choice for her now in the matter: she had to make him cum as many times as she could do, and perform whatever filthy acts with her body she wanted him to. Vulgar males like him didn’t exactly come along every day.

So there, in the dark, Widowmaker shifted on the sheets, adjusting her position on top of her smaller lover slightly. She trapped his twitching rod between the soles of both feet, and laughed as she began to stimulate him. His movements were put to an end, his veiny cock no longer able to spring about wherever it pleased, and she began to get her younger lover off. Her feet rode up and down his pole, teasing it, prickling the hard skin with the tips of her toes. She brought them up and around the head and kept him trapped under her toes for a long moment, shuddering as the first droplets of seed began to ease out onto her flesh. 

It was as thick as she’d imagined. He was an A+, as far as Widowmaker was concerned.

\---

Soon, he was writhing on the sheets. Widowmaker still had her cutie trapped, but now she had his member pinned to his belly, an entire foot resting on top of it. She moved her leg firmly back and forth, polishing his pole without a care for his comfort or pleasure, just wanting to see him fire out his seed. She stared unblinking at the thick stiffy jack-hammering underfoot , eyes flashing to the horny, bright-red head whenever it peeked out from beneath her heel.

“I’ll make you feel so good you’ll never think about another girl,” she cooed, pushing her thick ass firmly back against his face. “I’ll make you such a deviant you’ll be ruined for women who aren’t me... Does that sound nice? Fantasizing about fucking feet instead of a nice pussy or mouth?”

She felt his cock spasming and pinned it down. The pressure overwhelmed him and he howled under into her big, soft buttcheeks. “Now, release all your cum~” she whispered, leaning closer. She watched his urethra open, and the semen she’d been craving begin to splatter all over her foot. It filled the gaps between her toes, oozed all down her sole and dripped along her skin. From there it dripped down onto his own belly, where it would stain him with their vulgar, unusual sex act.

It was ruined sperm, sperm that would never see the inside of a woman’s body. Widowmaker laughed again, lifting her stickied-up foot and studying it in the dim light. “This much... I shouldn’t be surprised such a dirty pervert didn’t have any trouble painting my foot white.”

She smiled inwardly as she continued to lewdly praise him. “It feels so hot... ♥”

The Frenchy lifted her behind and turned around, finally letting him up to breathe. After being buried in the stuffy warmth of her ass for so long, the cool air felt heavenly on his face. He sucked in deep breaths. “Haah... Haah...”

She had done it. Now, whenever he thought of sex, this was what he would associate with it. This depravity. As she looked down upon him, his chest fluttering as he came down from his orgasmic high, she knew his chances of a normal relationship with a loving partner had been ruined forever. She had poisoned the well, and he had drunk deep from it.

The fat-assed bitch squatted over her charge, ass up and hands on his chest. She was grinning like the lecherous pervert she was, eyes shining with perversion. “We’re going to fuck much, much more today... I hope you’re able to handle it~”


End file.
